Blood on the Marble
by A Spot of Bother
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan is already struggling with the intricacies of the Great Game when the discovery of blood on the marble sends her in search of Solas and a temporary respite. Possible spoilers.


(A/N): Sorry, I know it's not the next _BB_ chapter, but this game has pretty much consumed my life the last few months. **Possible spoilers**. Concrit is always welcome.

Disclaimer: Insert witty disclaimer here.

Blood on the Marble

Ellana marched through the halls of the Winter Palace, her stomach twisted in sick knots and her smile becoming more wooden with each masked noble she passed. The rustle of crinoline skirts and the whispers that trailed her from behind gloved hands made her skin crawl, further tightening the coil of anger in her gut. As she approached Josephine, the Inquisition's ambassador stepped forward to meet her, brow creasing in a concerned frown.

"Inquisitor," she said, voice pitched low so their conversation wouldn't carry, "whatever is wrong, I beg of you to school your expression – the eyes of the court are upon you."

"Hang the court," Ellana said shortly, though she sighed and lowered her voice when the noblewoman's frown deepened. "Can you find Solas for me?"

"It would be no trouble, but why..."

Someone tittered behind her, and the Herald flinched from the sound. "I can't be here, Josephine. Make whatever excuses you like, but give me five minutes in a quiet corner before I sink a dagger into one of these nobles, please."

The ambassador's expression teetered on the brink of outright alarm. "Inquisitor, what –"

"Josephine, do you remember how poorly things went when I discovered Comte Gravois mistreating his serving girl?"

The Antivan blanched. "You wouldn't." Ellana's only response was a beatific smile. Apparently deciding she wasn't willing to take the risk the Inquisitor might follow through on her threat, Josephine hurriedly made her excuses to her sister and strode off into the crowd in search of the elven apostate. Ellana sighed and leaned against the railing the ambassador had just vacated, staring sightlessly at the beautifully turned-out nobility of Orlais twirling across the ballroom floor.

Beside her, Yvette cleared her throat. "Are you not enjoying the ball, Inquisitor?"

Ellana roused herself from her thoughts, glancing over at the younger Montilyet with a wan smile. "I'm afraid I share your opinion, Lady Montilyet – I much prefer the gardens to the guests. Present company excluded, of course," she added when the young woman's face fell.

Yvette beamed. "Oh, I know! It is so dull, is it not? You must come to Antiva City – my friend Adelaisa throws the most charming galas..." Ellana allowed her mind to wander as Yvette bubbled on, smiling and nodding in the appropriate places as the young noblewoman exuberantly recounted her fondest memories of parties past. "...And Philippe still refuses to speak of it and grows cross if you mention canapes in his presence," she finished as Josephine approached with Solas in tow.

"Yvette, stop bothering the Inquisitor," Josephine scolded.

Solas slipped to Ellana's side as Yvette pouted. "You can be so cruel, Josephine! We were discussing Marcus' birthday fete, were we not, Inquisitor?"

Josephine turned her anxious gaze on the elf, and Ellana managed a genuine smile. "Lady Montilyet has been a charming companion, Josephine."

"You see, Josie? You always assume the worst," Yvette said.

Josephine sighed heavily. "Yvette..." As the two sisters fell into the rhythms of a familiar argument, Solas took Ellana by the elbow and steered her away.

"Let us leave them to themselves, Inquisitor. Josephine said you wished to speak with me – I understand you threatened her with a repeat of the Gravois incident," he said, voice laced with a light amusement that vanished when she ducked her head. "What's troubling you, _lethallan_?" Ellana glanced up at him, allowing some of the anger and distress to leak back into her expression, and his grip on her tightened. "Not here, Inquisitor. Come, I know a quiet spot." Ellana nodded and allowed herself to be led, trying to pretend she couldn't feel the weight of the eyes following them.

Solas escorted her to a blessedly empty side gallery and shepherded her inside. He'd barely closed the door behind them when Ellana turned and latched onto him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his jacket as she buried her face in his chest. "Fen'Harel take this ball and every fool _shem_ in attendance," she muttered. She felt him stiffen at her words and sighed. She couldn't face another argument about the Dalish just now. "_Ir abelas, hahren_ – there is blood on the marble, probably elven, and all anyone seems to care about is that whoever left it is a poor player of the Game. I couldn't –" She faltered before anger steeled her words. "I simply couldn't stand there and smile at that blighted Marquis another second."

Solas was still and silent for a moment; then she felt his chest rise in a gentle sigh before he placed his hands on her shoulders. "And if the blood is elven, _da'len_? Would it be better if it were human?"

"No!" Ellana snapped, pulling away from him. "Just...how can no one _care_? I should pitch this entire palace into the nearest rift and call it a win for the Inquisition." She turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around herself and glaring at an unassuming spot on the floor. Behind her, she could almost feel him considering before he stepped in close again, laying a hand against the nape of her neck. Warmth spread from the point of contact, seeping into her clenched muscles, unknotting them and soothing the pain she hadn't even realized was growing with the stiffness. She couldn't stifle a small moan as she leaned back against him. "That's cheating," she whispered. He chuckled, but made no other answer as he looped his arms loosely around her, swaying slightly as his magic continued to loosen her tensed muscles.

She pulled away reluctantly as the last of the pain faded. "Thank you," she said, turning to face him. She grimaced when she saw the mess she'd made of his jacket. "I'm sorry, I've wrinkled your outfit terribly."

He glanced down at the garment before he shrugged one narrow shoulder. "It is of no importance. It may even help in the long run."

Ellana decided she was too tired to pursue the cryptic comment. "All right. I should...get back, I suppose," she said, cupping a hand to her temple.

"Not yet, Inquisitor. Stay awhile."

She blinked at him with a confused frown. "The court will notice my absence..."

Solas nodded. "Undoubtedly. Half the court believes we snuck away for a tryst, and the other half might be convinced of it, given enough time and the right touches when we rejoin them." A faint smile flitted across his face at her expression. "So there's no need to hurry back. Come, sit."

Ellana stared at him, dumbstruck. "_Fenedhis_," she swore, sinking down onto the bench Solas had indicated. The mage arched an eyebrow, but she ignored him. "_Fenedhis lasa_," she added for good measure, glaring at him when he moved to sit beside her. "So it would be too much for you to dance with me, but sneaking away to have sex in a side room somehow _won't _scandalize the court?"

"Better they think you're engaged in some illicit liaison than being restrained from...how did you put it? Pitching them all into the nearest rift?" Solas rejoined dryly. Ellana groaned and buried her face in her hands. There was a moment of silence before Solas reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, fingers lingering against her neck. "Explain it to me if you can, _lethallan_. You've faced down Warden-Commanders and ancient magisters. You've walked in the Fade itself. Why is the Winter Palace anything more than an after-thought?"

Ellana sat up with a shuddering sigh, closing her eyes as she searched for the words. "I was barely able to protect my own clan, even with the full backing of the Inquisition and three advisors helping me navigate the politics," she said, unconsciously hunching her shoulders. "Now I'm being asked to determine the fate of an entire nation, _alone_." She stared at her hands, curled uselessly in her lap. "I was a hunter, _hahren_ – if you wanted a hart brought down at fifty paces no one's arrow could fly truer than mine, but this...I was not raised for this."

Solas took her hand, tangling their fingers together. "I doubt you were raised to bring down an ancient darkspawn, either," he said wryly, "but you have twice denied Corypheus a potential army with nothing but your wits and a clever application of force."

She grinned crookedly. "Burying Haven was more an act of desperation," she pointed out.

"That you ultimately turned to your advantage."

"You make it sound like it was easy," she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.

"It was not. I was there," he said, and she didn't have to look up to know another fleeting smile crossed his face.

"Why can't you be the one to charm the court? You love the Great Game, and they'd love you," she said wistfully.

"It is a shame," he agreed, a bitter sort of melancholy in his voice. He squeezed her fingers before she could comment on it. "Don't let fear of the court's opinion paralyze you, Inquisitor. You've made missteps, it's true, but you may yet turn the evening to your advantage. Right now they believe they already know you – use it against them."

"How?" she asked, trying to keep her frustration from her voice.

"How did you walk into Redcliffe Castle knowing Alexius wished you dead and leave victorious?"

"Dumb luck. And Tevinter magic."

"You're being deliberately difficult, _da'len_." She couldn't deny the accusation and fell silent. He sighed. "Tell me, forgetting all the opinions you've heard regarding who is most fit to rule, what would you see come out of this evening?"

Ellana considered their hands, still tangled together. "I want people to stop looking first at my ears and _vallaslin_," she said slowly. "I want to be able to attend a ball and not step in a pool of blood." She raised her face to meet his gaze. "I want to be able to dance with you openly before the court."

His eyes burned. "Then make them love you until they beg for the honor of giving you those things." Ellana swallowed, her pulse beating thickly in her throat. Solas smiled ruefully. "Forgive me, _vhenan__._ You sometimes make me believe impossible things may be possible, after all." She watched as he drew back into himself, the heat in his eyes dimming as he carefully schooled his features back to placidity. She wanted to reach out to him, beg him not to hide from her, yet these flashes of intense emotion were so rare she still wasn't sure whether they elated or unnerved her. Torn by her conflicting reactions, she remained silent, lowering her eyes to their clasped hands once more. Solas bowed his head and, gingerly, she laid her head against his shoulder again, sighing when he leaned into her as well, resting his cheek against her hair.

She couldn't have said how long they rested there, their breathing the only sound in the small room, but finally Solas stirred himself and pulled her to her feet behind him. "We've tarried here long enough, Inquisitor," he said, brushing his thumb against her cheek before he ran a hand up into her hair, mussing the carefully arranged locks.

Ellana nearly choked. "Creators, Josephine is going to _kill_ you...or me," she said, horrified.

He laughed, catching her face in his hands and dropping a light kiss on her forehead. "As I said, we must keep up appearances." He cast a critical eye over her dress before he reached around her, loosening her stays and retying the knot with deliberate clumsiness. "There," he said, stepping back and giving her a final once-over before nodding his approval. "It would help the deception if you could bring yourself to blush –"

He was cut off as she went up on tiptoe, winding her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. The kiss was inelegant, needy, and she whimpered lightly when he crushed her to him, tongue flicking teasingly against his before she drew back, cheeks flushed. "Like that?" she asked breathlessly, fingers curling against the nape of his neck. She couldn't help a small grin at his expression.

He grinned back. "Exactly so," he said with a chuckle. "I had no idea you had such a gift for improvisation, Inquisitor. We may have to explore it further at a later date." Her flush deepened before she stepped back, smoothing a hand over her full skirts, and his grin gentled. "Are you ready?" Squaring her shoulders, she nodded, drawing strength from the approval she saw in his eyes before he turned and led her back to the ballroom.


End file.
